Journey Proud: A Novel

By Carolyn Fleming

In 1933 the quiet and gentle life of Baxton, a small rural town in Georgia, is disrupted when native son and world traveler, Jason Randolph, returns after an absence of eleven years. Mystery surrounds the simultaneous arrival of Josephine, an infamous beauty, who had visited Baxton only once before, eleven years earlier.

Spunky nine-year-old Sunny Leigh and her "worst" friend, Jimbo Byrd, observe the developing crises and become participants in the fast-moving events. Sunny's parents, Allyson and David Leigh, play their parts in the drama on another level, as do the other inhabitants of this quintessential southern town. As they go about their Depression-era lives, they eventually uncover in one short summer the connection between events past and present.

Jason's sister Fanny allows her intense hatred of Josephine to goad Fanny to an unspeakable act of destruction. In addition, Jason's good intentions are destroyed by an unexpected disaster, the Leighs and their neighbors confront the Ku Klux Klan, and the whole town is affected by a mysterious death.

The surprise ending features Governor Eugene Talmadge, a real personage among otherwise fictitious characters. Integral to the story are Eldora and Willie Jackson, who have their own troubles to deal with, even as they become caught up in the towns problems. It is Eldora who teaches Sunny the real meaning of "journey proud". She and Willie provide wisdom that will remiain with the reader long after the book is laid aside. Other dividends of Journey Proud are its gentle humor woven into the picture of a bygone time and its people who considered that they had all the luxuries of life even if they lacked some of the necessities.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Feb 26, 2007
• ISBN: 9781412241533

Carolyn Fleming

Carolyn Fleming was born in Forsyth, Georgia where her Alexander family had lived for more than 100 years. She and her husband, Jack, won The Adelia Rosaco Award for the book and lyrics of Seaplane, a musical about early flight, written with noted composer Allen Pote. The three also collaborated on Imagination!, a musical/whimsical about Robert Louis Stevenson and the musical Bahia de Panzacola. She is the author of Pensacola Holidays and Democracy Means Sharing. Memory's Feast is a work in progress. She lives in Pensacola, Florida.

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© Copyright 2000 by Carolyn Fleming

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

Canadian Cataloguing in Publication Data

Fleming, Carolyn. Journey proud

ISBN 1-55212-425-8 (bound)—ISBN 1-55212-424-X (pbk.)

ISBN 978-1-4122-4153-3(ebook)

I. Title.

PS3556.L674J68 2000   813’.6   C00-910901-3

Russell House Publishers

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Contents

DEDICATION

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

A FAMILY FABLE INSPIRED BY ALL THOSE WHO ARE PRESENT BUT UNSEEN

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

THE AUTHOR

DEDICATION

With love and gratitude to my husband, Jack, for being my sounding board and my supporter every step of the way-and most of all, for being journey proud every day.

PROLOGUE

President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s words, All we have to fear is fear itself, were broadcast as words of comfort and encouragement to a depression-ravaged people gathered around their radios. The year of 1933 was a watershed year with Roosevelt’s taking office within days of Hitler’s rise to power in Germany. War was a distant threat on the horizon. The New Deal, which would change people’s expectation of government, was formulated to bring relief from the Great Depression that would not end until the outbreak of World War II.

A thousand miles from the nation’s seat of power, Baxton, Georgia, was its own center of the universe. Its residents knew hardship and privation from the Depression, but not on the same scale experienced by people living in the cities. Vegetable gardens for subsistence, a habit of making do and a sense of community for mutual aid helped in facing hard times. Life around the courthouse-centered square went on as it had for the previous fifty years. Men continued to wear hats in public and to conduct much of their business on street corners. To be sure, many women had permanent waves; their skirts were longer and could now be bought, like most garments, at the mercantile store. Automobiles, wringer washing machines and electricity were bringing change, but the placid temper of the town continued undisturbed.

Everyday life had changed even less for the black people of Baxton. Ironically for the anti-racial purpose of the Ku Klux Klan, its own violent acts made thoughtful people more aware of the demeaning status of the black people and the denial of their basic rights. That some black and white people could regard each other as family was accepted by many. A much smaller number of white people understood that affection was no substitute for equality. For that achievement, the road stretched far into the future.

Mythical Baxton is not on the map. It stands for the hundreds of similar, small towns that were part of the South in 1933. The stories and the characters of Journey Proud are fictitious, but the sense of time and place is as true as I could write it. Perhaps I hoped to recapture my own childhood or to prove to myself that remembrance can bring a kind of immortality for times past. Memory is not always trustworthy, but it may be a thread of identity. It has more layers than an onion, is more elusive and harder to hold than quicksilver, is more changing than clouds on a summer’s day. It borrows shamelessly. Yet, one’s present self is a hostage to memory.

When I started to write this story, I studied a fading photograph of myself. The child’s pudgy dimpled cheeks and the Buster Brown haircut must have had the same look as countless other photographs of little girls living in the 1930s. At first glance, I saw an air of innocence-no, something else. The eyes and the slightly puckered, close-lipped smile mystified me. That child had disappeared forever, obscured by successive layers of growth and change. She existed only in memory. The photograph now became for me a visible symbol of other children of that era.

By the sleight-of-hand of imagination, a character named Sunny miraculously appeared in her starched and scratchy organdy dress, which was wilting in the heat of a midsummer day. My imagination became captive of the Sunny Leigh with the blur of her blue dress and butterfly hair ribbon, bobbing and weaving among the wedding guests as they all waited for the bride to descend the stairs. Then with a child’s gift for mimicry, my imagination produced scenes about a spunky nine-year-old and her parents, Allyson and David Leigh. The story became their journey as they kept a rendezvous with destiny.

"Life is full of trouble

but ah! the plum blossoms at the window"

            —Kiyonobu

CHAPTER ONE

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May 24, 1933

I know Fanny is chewing nails!

"Mark my words, Bee-at-trice, once Jason Randolph sets foot in Baxton, something shocking will happen again! I can feel it in my bones."

After five futile attempts to use the party line, Allyson sighed and replaced the receiver. Beatrice and Mabel never had short conversations.

For three days the party line had been tied up constantly, ever since Fanny had announced that Jason, her only brother, whom she idolized, would arrive within the week.

Jason was a world traveler, and no one knew exactly what he did, which would have marked him as peculiar had he not been rich. What the men who hung around the drugstore couldn’t understand was how he could stay away from Baxton for eleven years without even one visit home. He had missed dove shoots, barbecues, possum hunts and Tech/Georgia football games. He probably didn’t even know who Eugene Talmadge was.

David Leigh couldn’t comprehend Jason’s long absence either. Last night he had said to Allyson at the dinner table, I can see why Jason would have stayed away for a year maybe, but after that-well, why go looking for heaven-on-earth when you’ve already got it right here in Baxton?

I can understand why Jason would stay away from Baxton, Allyson had thought. Then feeling guilty for being disloyal, she had quickly reassured herself that she really liked a small town and that Baxton was such a good place for Sunny to grow up.

When Fanny came by my office today, David had continued, she announced that Jason will run the cotton mill and Mr. Etheridge will be retired.

But Jason has no experience. Can he do it?

Jason thinks he can do anything.

Allyson had looked at him sideways. I’m afraid the heat must be getting to you. You don’t sound like yourself.

Do I know Jason, Daddy? Sunny had asked.

"Cud’n Jason, Allyson had corrected her. I guess you don’t, Sunny. He left Baxton in 1922, two years before you were born, and this is the first time he’s been back. He’s Cud’n Fanny’s brother and was close as a brother to your daddy, who’s really his first cousin."

We grew up doing everything together until he went to Princeton and I went to Georgia Tech.

Bringing her mind back to the present, Allyson could hear through the open window as Sunny wheedled their ten-year-old neighbor, Jimbo, I’ll give you two big-little books for your rubber gun!

No, siree-bob-tail, Sunny Leigh, you’re only nine years old and a girl, at that. ‘Sides, you can’t hit the side of a barn anyway. Now you better quit pestering me ‘bout my rubber gun. He tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants and wiped his horn-rimmed glasses with his shirt tail.

I’ve got a bag of gold coins you can have, and they’re really chocolate candy inside.

Allyson smiled, watching Jimbo pause, then trudge slowly behind Sunny, who skipped toward the back door. Allyson poured herself a glass of iced tea, adding a sprig of mint from the garden. It was shady on the front porch, so she rearranged the chair pillows and started rocking. She promised herself ten minutes for remembering all that had happened eleven years before.

"I said I’d lend you my rubber gun, Miss Priss."

You’re an Indian-giver and now you’ve eaten up all my candy, you big baboon!

It was stale anyway. If you had liked it you woulda already eaten it. Bet you got it way back last Christmas. Sunny and Jimbo were still arguing when they climbed up to the tree house. And their fussing will continue, Allyson thought with a sigh, and so will the talk about Jason.

CHAPTER TWO

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Sunny, it’s time to go to the wedding. Allyson stood on the front porch, pinning a gardenia in her dark hair.

Gee whiz, Miz Leigh, you sure do look pretty! Jimbo called out from his side of the fence.

Sunny’s mouth was open, her eyebrows disappearing under her Buster Brown haircut. Mama, you look just like a movie star!

Allyson did look different. Her hair was pulled back into a chignon as usual, but it was waved and softly curling around her face. Her pale green dress made her dark blue eyes look even bluer. Do you like my dress? she said, turning for David to see. Sister lent it to me.

Gosh, Honey, you look beautiful, but you could wear a kroker sack and still be the prettiest woman in town!

Allyson blushed. Compliments embarrassed her. She didn’t believe them anyway. It’s time to go. Sunny Leigh, please hurry! David, don’t forget your hat.

The clock in the courthouse was just striking four in the afternoon when the long procession of cars started down the lonely country road. The Leigh family, chugging along in their Model T Ford, led the procession, which had paused at Baxton’s one traffic light before circling the courthouse square and passing the ice house and the blacksmith’s shop. On the outskirts of town, all heads had turned to look at the Randolph mansion, known by all as the pride of Savannah Drive. Soon the cars were rolling through endless cotton fields and cow pastures, already turning yellow in the merciless heat.

Feeling icky, Sunny wanted to throw up, but she was afraid she might ruin her organdy dress. Not that she liked the dress. It was scratchy, and the elastic in the puff sleeves was so tight it cut into her arms. The old Model T’s isinglass curtains were rolled up so the window openings caught the slightest breeze-and dust. Sunny’s bangs were plastered to her forehead with perspiration, and when she tried to move, her legs stuck to the slick upholstery. With nothing to see now but cotton fields, she couldn’t even play cow poker. She propped her chin in her hands and sighed. Suddenly her eyes crinkled, a smile spread over her face, and she giggled aloud.

What’s funny, Sweetie?

I’m glad I don’t have to wear a corset!

David’s shoulders were shaking, but he managed to keep his voice steady. What in the world made you think of that?

Thinking ‘bout the ladies in all those cars back of us. On the lawn after church I’ve heard ‘em complain lots of times about sweat running down their corset and their stays punching into their flesh. Sometimes when they don’t think anybody is looking, I’ve seen ‘em nearly bite their lip off when they try to pull their corset down.

Sunny, you don’t miss a thing! Allyson said.

You won’t ever need a corset, Honey, David said, stealing a look at Allyson’s generous bosom, which projected over her tiny waist.

In the distance, a red cloud of dust boiled up around a car speeding toward them.

Watch out, David! That car is going to hit us!

David clutched the steering wheel and drove to the very edge of a large clay ditch. The oncoming car, a blue Pierce-Arrow, swerved and careened crazily as it lurched against the ruts of the narrow road and finally passed the Model T, trailing a huge, billowing cloud of red dust.

Crazy fool! David pounded the wheel with his fist. We could have all been killed!

Yipes! Sunny said as the dust filled the car and settled on everything. All three Leighs began to cough and sneeze. Sunny, a mouth-breather, felt the grit and sand in her two-day-old chewing gum. She wrinkled her pug nose and reluctantly threw the gum out the window.

Mama, you know what? Her eyebrows shot up under her bangs. The lady driving that car had sil-ver hair!

Did she, Sunny? Allyson paused, then lowered her voice as she moved closer to David. Whenever her mama lowered her voice, Sunny listened harder. The year before she married, Allyson had been an elocution teacher. Sunny could always hear every word she whispered.

With silver hair-surely that wasn’t….

Josephine? I hope not! Jason came in on the train last night.

It might not be an accident that they turned up at the very same time-after all these years. Allyson began to wave her pasteboard fan even faster. David took off his straw hat and put it on the seat.

Anyway, why would Josephine be coming down Shady Hill Road so late in the day? What possible business would she have out here? David shook his head.

‘Meanness,’ Fanny would say. A twinkle lightened Allyson’s dark blue eyes. Most of the county is invited to this wedding, and she’d be making her presence known. Ask anybody back of us.

You’re right about that. It’s just common courtesy to pass a car slow as you can on a dirt road.

Just imagine how mad everybody is-having to ride along with rolled up windows in all this heat. A lot of finger waves will be ruined, Allyson said, re-pinning the gardenia in her dark chignon.

Why would Josephine come back? Fanny can’t abide her, and I’m sure Josephine’s mortally afraid of Fanny. After the scandal….

Allyson put her finger to her lips and nodded toward Sunny in the back seat. Little pitchers!

Sunny moved even closer to the front seat.

How-ya doing back there, Sunny? David asked. O.K.?

Uh-huh. What’s a scandal, Daddy?

But Allyson was continuing, It’s been a long time, but I’ll never forget how it rocked the town, and no one in Baxton knew how to deal with it. Remember? It was taboo to mention it unless you were a Randolph. To this day, I can hear what Fanny said to the Book Club just before it happened.

When Allyson started telling the story, she sounded to Sunny just like Cud’n Fanny, who had a hootey kind of voice, high and trembly. Jimbo Byrd, Sunny’s worst friend, said Cud’n Fanny must have been born old. Sunny liked her though because when she sat by them in church on Sunday morning, she showed Sunny ways to pass the time during the long sermons. And she gave Easter egg hunts every year for the Methodist Sunday School. Last year Sunny had found the golden egg, and Jimbo got a black eye when he was reaching for it. Sunny claimed he had tripped her, and that was why his eye had gotten in the way. She didn’t like to think about that time, so she listened again to her mama imitating Cud’n Fanny.

‘I don’t care if Jason is my baby brother,’ Allyson quoted Fanny, ‘and I love him to pieces, but he had no business bringing that, that baggage-that Josephine-home. Mama would turn over in her grave if she knew we had a peroxide blonde sleeping in the room we keep for the Bishop.’

Daddy, you didn’t tell me. What’s a scandal?

Uh, nothing much, just silly talk, David spoke faster than usual.

Allyson spoke more quietly than before. Do you remember, David, that I told you about walking up to the Randolphs’ the day before our wedding? He nodded. I’ll never forget how unnatural the place looked, almost eerie. The hydrangeas lining the drive needed water, the sultana plants in the porch boxes had drooped pitifully in the noon heat, and the rocker cushions on the verandah were scattered about. The front door was closed and locked, and you know how Fanny has always kept the door open from sun-up to bedtime. I rang and knocked on the door, but no one came. Then I saw Willie coming around the corner of the old carriage house. He looked frail and weary, and I can still hear him say, ‘Please ‘scuse us, Miz Al’son. Nobody here but Miss Fanny. I jes’ come back from the train station the second time this day. Somethin’ pow’ful sad happen’ here. I tell Miss Fanny you called aftuh her.’ I went home and cried for every last one of them.

David looked toward the back seat and spoke heartily, Sunny, Sheriff Jenkins told me he really appreciates your delivering his campaign cards all over town. If a nine-year-old could run for governor, I bet you’d win in a walk.

Would I have to wear red suspenders all the time if I got to be governor?

No-oo! Not all governors wear suspenders. They’re just Governor Talmadge’s trademark.

Allyson smiled at David as she raised her eyebrows. By the time you’re governor, Sunny, women may even be allowed to serve on the jury in Georgia.

Things will change someday. David twisted his neck, trying to loosen his collar. I’m glad you ladies are writing all those letters to Congress about lynching.

Well, Mrs. Neal deserves all the credit. She’s made it into a national campaign. Here it is 1933, and we have to lobby for a law to abolish something as awful as lynching. That’s disgraceful! She began to fan herself, then David, vigorously.

I’m proud of you, Honey, David said. Keep doing all you can!

Soon the road got so bumpy Sunny had to hold on to the strap by the window. She began to hum just to hear her voice vibrate like Miss Hill’s when she sang a solo in the choir. The air shimmered with heat. At the crossroads, they passed Jones’s seed store. On the porch Sunny saw a metal Coca-Cola sign with the picture of a wavy-haired blonde, her long neck reared way back. She was holding an ice cold bottle of CocaCola to her lips. Sunny swallowed hard and tried to imagine the cool, brown bubbles sliding down her throat. Shoot! she thought to herself, I wish a dope didn’t cost as much as a loaf of bread.

Mama, when this ‘pression is over and I’m grown, I’m gonna buy me three co-colas, all at one time. And I’m gonna eat a whole quart of store-bought ice cream! And I’ll buy you and Daddy anything you want in the drugstore!

Sounds good to me, Sunny! David laughed.

Mabel said that Fanny told her she’s determined to bring Jason to the wedding today, even if he doesn’t want to come, Allyson said, but I can’t imagine that anyone who’s had supper with the Prince of Wales would want to go to a country wedding. I will say one thing; we’ll remember this wedding for a long time. Naomi has outdone herself. Yesterday she had us rounding up everybody’s silver spoons and all the flowers we could find. I can’t imagine what she’s going to do with Eileen Simpson’s front door.

They passed a tumble-down barn with the advertisement for a patent medicine barely showing through the kudzu vine smothering it. Wooden frame farmhouses, once neatly painted, were now weathered and shabby, but nearly every porch had clay pots or lard buckets filled with ferns or geraniums. Occasionally there was a birdhouse made out of ten gourds hanging on a pole. Flowerbeds in brush-swept, hard-dirt yards were lined with old bottles or cut pieces of automobile tires. At one house children were swinging in a tire, which hung by a rope from an oak tree.

It’s depressing to see these farms so run down, David said. Cotton’s down to five cents a pound. I know a lot of these folks. Many of them have had to cancel their insurance, and some have lost their life savings.

It is depressing, Allyson agreed. Then her face brightened. Why don’t we sing a song to cheer us up? How ‘bout ‘Pack Up Your Troubles’ ?

Their voices wobbled as their bodies bounced against the tufted rubberized seats.

David carefully turned the car into a large field. We’re here. I see they’re parking in the cow pasture.

Allyson turned to the back seat. Sunny, did you know Eldora is coming to work in the kitchen and Willie is getting off from the drugstore to help?

Oh boy! Sunny responded. ’Dora and Willie are my best friends. Jimbo Byrd is my second-best friend-when he’s behaving himself.

CHAPTER THREE

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Mabel Bailey, the bride’s aunt, stood by the front door, welcoming everybody in long gasps of enthusiasm, hardly pausing for a breath. She grabbed Allyson’s arm and whispered so loud Sunny guessed all of the people sitting in the parlor could hear her. At least, Sunny thought, they didn’t get sprayed with spit when Miz Mabel smacked her lips. Mabel’s face, powdered two shades darker than her neck, appeared to crack when she smiled.

Oh, Allyson honey, don’t you look just gorgeous I’ve never seen you wear this dress and green is your color absolutely your color listen can you go upstairs you know Mary Catherine idolizes you ever since you taught her in Sunday School she’s on a crying jag don’t tell anybody just bride’s jitters I ‘spec Naomi and I were just saying we bet you could calm her down would you do that God love you. Mabel’s short bowlegs teetered on high heels, her big bust and wide shoulders preceding her stiffly corseted bottom. She plowed through the crowd, pulling a bewildered Allyson to the foot of the stairs.

Beatrice Dudley’s raspy, bass voice always announced her presence. It’s a good thing you girls rounded up all those electric fans. It’s hot as blazes in here. Her voice cut through the mounting hubbub of the assembled guests. Sunny tried not to giggle, but with her cartwheel hat and bulging eyeballs, squatty Miz Beatrice looked like a frog sitting under a toadstool. She turned around quickly before Miz Beatrice could see her. Last Sunday Miz Beatrice had caught her and Jimbo eating the saltine crackers and drinking the communion grape juice after church. Sunny remembered the fire in her eye and how Miz Beatrice was always bragging about not having any children, saying in her hoity-toity way, My problems have never been little ones. Shoot, it’s a good thing, Sunny decided.

The house smelled of gardenias, sweet peas and roses. In the huge parlor a stained-glass window rose above the ferns and the smilax-covered table serving as an altar. It was Miz Eileen’s front door. The doorknob and hinges were hidden behind the magnolia leaves.

Sunny’s butterfly bow bobbed with each step when she skipped across the room to speak to the father of the bride. Elmo Jenkins, a burly, red-faced man, was glad-handing everyone.

Mr. Jenkins, I like your house all decorated.

Well, thank you, Sunny. Here, Precious, give this little card to your folks. He winked at her. I want to keep on being your sheriff. He hitched up his pants, but they still didn’t cover his stomach.

From across the room, Mabel glanced at Elmo, and her fixed smile turned to a look of exasperation. She grabbed Beatrice’s arm. "Will you look at that brother-in-law of mine he’s taken off his coat so everybody can see those Talmadge suspenders and he will wear dark glasses in the house I am embarrassed to tears look Bee-at-trice I believe to my soul he’s passing out campaign cards."

The dern fool, Beatrice said out of the side of her mouth. I’ll go stop him. I knew he was going to run for sheriff again when he started showing up at church every Sunday.

When Sunny saw Miz Beatrice heading her way, she decided to look for a place to hide and found a stool in back of the palms, next to the lady who played on the harp. She signaled to her daddy where she was.

Just as Sunny settled